


Power of the Fae

by orphan_account



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Allison Argent-Vernon Boyd-Erica Reyes are indeed gone, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, OC, Spark Stiles Stilinski, fae, hope youll see bits of respect for them, part 2 is currently being written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer before everyone's second year of college Jordan Parrish goes missing. There's no trace of magic. No trace of a struggle. And most upsetting, no smell of what could have took him. Fae. It's up to the gang to go get him, but what starts off as a game of hiding-n-seeking soon turns into something more. With Peter's wolf itching to take over his mind this game is bound to get dangerous. (Part 2 in Nov)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power of the Fae

**Author's Note:**

> This took me too long to write, but I'm thankful for all the help I had. I also haven't written in a while so... haha give me a break. Part two info is at END NOTES

Peter thinks sometimes he would rather be dead then deal with a bunch of hormonal kids and a nephew who can’t get his head out of his own ass. Blaming him though would just be rude. Derek’s always been kind of grumpy and sarcastic in his own way, more so since almost the entirety of his entire family was burnt away. Besides Laura of course, since Peter was the one to kill her. Although he has to say, looking back, that was not the smartest thing to do.

But what can you do? Peter’s wolf had been going mad. Turning him into a twisted, evil monster no more than half of what he used to be. So he let the fact that Derek slit his throat go. He totally gets it. You have to do what you have to do. Including pretending to listen to his alpha… Kind of his alpha. Scott has always been a good alpha; Peter just feels the darkness in his chest tell him that he would make a better one. Of course he might not be as strong as Scott is now. Kira is a fox, and beams at reminding them all she is Scott’s mate.

Mates have always made people stronger, which is why it’s never surprised him at the pairs in the group. Liam and his boyfriend, Morgan. A helpless human, both of whom still clinging to each other since their first year of high school. Danny and Ethan back together, sitting on the wide chair that faces the television. Malia, his daughter, standing next to him with Isaac on her other side. That one was a bit of surprise, but Peter supposes it was bound to happen. Isaac is a bit of a loose cannon, giving into his wolf more than the rest of them.

Something else that didn’t surprise him was Jackson coming back from wherever the hell he had gone off to. Running to Lydia when he saw her and embracing her so tightly that Peter feared the banshee would snap. Peter didn’t even blink when a week later the two were fighting; having changed so much in the three years they barely had any spark left. (It kind of makes him nervous in a small, weird way, knowing that Lydia was no longer Jackson’s. He doesn’t like the feeling at all. It makes him want to hit his wolf on the snout. Make his wolf bleed for feeling weak and needy.)

Then there was Derek. Right now, Peter is currently watching his nephew inch closer to Stiles as Scott rambles about something. Jeez, this shit always cracks him up, and he wants to laugh out loud when Derek realizes he’s been caught by Peter, from the smirk crawling across his face. Peter thinks, after all this time, Derek would go ahead and make a move. Almost all the kids are going into their second year of college for Christ sake. There hasn’t been a proper threat in Beacon Hills for a while. Proper threats meaning someone had died. Someone besides the person doing the threatening.

Peter remembers the night that Derek lost Boyd. The stench of despair so fucking strong Peter could barely breathe. Memories of screaming children and crying mothers coming from a burning house rushed into his head. It stunk so terribly, the smell of his sister’s flesh burning. A feeling in his chest unfurls and suddenly it’s like his wolf is twitching to rip something apart. His head hurts from the memory of death.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and when he opens them everyone is looking at him.

“Peter?” Malia’s hand touches his shoulder gently and he does everything he can not to flinch away from his daughter.

“Yeah?” Glancing down at the hand he shrugs softly, “Scott, you were talking about something?”

“He was talking about how there was fae spotted in the forest and Parrish has gone missing. Stiles’ dad hasn’t heard from him in two days,” frowns Lydia from the sofa.

Peter goes rigid for a moment. Clearly he needs to pay better attention to these meetings because if the fae are being brought up that’s an actual issue. Although he didn’t really smell panic when people came into the loft earlier.

“Sorry, I was just in my own little world, you know how I get,” He moves to get his laptop, “So much more interesting than this one.” Peter sits down on the sofa next to Lydia, who scrunches her nose. He opens the laptop, clicking open the files to the beastiary.

“Will they be in there? I mean technically fae aren’t creatures of the night, right?” Stiles say and Peter sighs at him, catching the glance Derek throws towards his love interest. He goes through the file quickly, coming to a section about fae that, of course, is in the beastiary.“Hmm,” he hums, reading the usual on fae. Stealing babies, trapping fruits, dancing, the differences between Summer Fae and Winter Fae. Creatures welcomed and homed in their courts. Why would they ever want to come to the incredibly boring human world of Beacon Hills?

“Don’t hum at us man, we kinda need to know what’s going on before we find Parrish dead in the woods, or worse.” Frustrated Stiles moves behind Peter to look at the screen, but Peter prides himself in being an asshole and slams the laptop shut before the boy can peak.

Jackson snarls from the corner he hasn’t moved from, “Stop playing games you son of a bitch. We need to find Parrish and you’re not helping us by not telling us anything.”

Oh, so that’s who Jackson has a soft spot for now. Interesting. Jackson wasn’t a kanima anymore, but he did still have the claws and eyes of one.  And knowing that he had a soft spot for Parrish those claws might come in handy for Peter later, say, if he needed someone taken care of. A life for a life trade, and even though Peter tried not doing things like that anymore he was a creature of habid.

“Excuse me, but that’s Derek’s grandmother you’re talking about,” retorts Peter, “Besides, everything I could tell you would probably be the same thing dear Ms. Lydia would say, isn’t that right.” He winks at the redhead.

Stiles makes a gagging noise as Scott watches the banshee for a second. “Lydia?”

Huffing the women glares at Peter before saying, “Fae come from a different world. Like a demon might, but where demons are from hell, or the human mind, fae have their own land. It’s quite literally a faery world.”

“Like Neverland?” Stiles laughs, “They can’t be that bad. I mean trying to take a couple babies? We can get those back. Going to fight some pirates now that-“ Derek answers Stiles with a soft pat to his cheek and a quiet“ _Shut up_ ”.

“Not quite,” says Lydia, nodding her thanks. “It’s more like a totally different dimension.”

“So no flying towards the second star on the right?” Stiles says.

“Stiles really shut up before I make Derek carry you away,” Lydia snaps. Peter likes when she does that, shows her power of intimidation with one sentence. It makes her look strong and desirable. Peter hates pining, so he pushes the feelings of down, his wolf internally whining.

“You were saying?” Peter mumbles towards her.

She looks at him for a second, squinting in suspicion, “A different dimension. Different rules of time, different land, different creatures.”

“Then why are they in our woods?” Derek’s brow furrows as he crosses his arms.

“Well since none of us have a baby and Parrish is missing it’s probably because they thought he was beautiful. Fae have been known to take humans they find attractive or talented.” Lydia mumbles.

“You’re saying they took Parrish because he’s hot?” Jackson stands up and walks to the window, “We have to go find him before they take him back to Faeryland.”

“It’s not that simple,” Peter all but sneers, “Fae always come for something important. Humans they take are more like an extra perk. A souvenir if you might. When did you say you saw them, Scott?”

“This morning when we were doing a perimeter run. The strange thing was, I saw them before I smelled them.”

“Then I suggest we do another perimeter check?” Peter lets the words fall off his lips like a question, but inside it’s a demand, meant to be obeyed.

Nodding, Scott looks around the room, “Alright, Liam will go check by the public camping site. Morgan,” he glances at the other boy, “If you go, you can’t leave Liam.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles with a shrug.

“Alright, Derek and Stiles can go by the house. We don’t need fae getting into the construction.” Derek nods in what is clear agreement. He’s been putting a lot of work into rebuilding the house, having to go through county to buy the entire property back. No reason for it to fall a second time. “Kira and I will go check out the west line of the property. Danny and Ethan can take the east with Jackson. Peter can go north. Isaac and Malia can you go to the other side of town and make sure everything is okay?” They both nod and Malia instantly starts tapping her foot, ready for the hunt.

Lydia stands up suddenly causing Peter to flail a bit as the sofa sinks. “What about me?!” She demands.

“Lydia… Um, I was thinking maybe you could do some research for us?”

The look on Lydia’s face is murderous and she bares her teeth. Something all the humans of the group started doing involuntarily.

“Oh come on Scott, she can handle herself.” Morgan chirps.

“It’s true, you know she can,” mumbles Jackson. Stiles nods in agreement.

Looking at Scott, Kira smiles, “Let her go, Scott.”

The alpha huffs but nods slowly, “Fine, but you have to go with Peter.”

Peter’s got to hand it to Scott. The man does know how to play the game. Scott knows that Lydia doesn’t like getting stuck with Peter on account of him biting her and then using her to bring him from the dead. It made for a bit of a rocky friendship. Everyone waits to hear her back out, as is expected.

“Fine, but I want Ali’s knife belt.”

Scott smiles softly, “Of course.”

“You know Lydia, the fae probably won’t hurt you. You’re too pretty,” Morgan smiles and Liam laughs with agreement.

“Who said it was for the fae?” She scoffs.

-

Peter watches as Stiles pops his trunk and lifts up a latch in the bed. He pulls the cover off and hands it to Derek, moving so Lydia can look in. A large, black toolbox looks back at them. Lydia laughs, her satisfied fake laugh, and unlatches the box. Peter follows her hands as she runs them over the leather belt. Pockets decorate the side, each holding all of a hunter’s signature weapons. She pulls it out and fits the belt on to her waist making her curves hidden by the romper show. Bending down she starts taking her heels off trading them out for the black shoes in the box.

Peter snaps his head up at the shuffle of Derek’s feet and he’s greeted with a smirk from his nephew and a disapproving look from Stiles. Scoffing he turns back to Lydia, “I know you’re busy trying to look glamorous and all, but could you hurry up. We are trying to save a life.”

“Last time I checked,” Lydia locks the box back up, “You weren’t much for saving lives unless they meant giving yourself some sort of power.”

Peter laughs, “Who says his life won’t give me more power.” He smirks at the growl he hears come from Derek and the glare from Lydia. He enjoys making Lydia glare at him; it means she’s at least looking.

An hour later though, he’s kind of regretting his life choices as Lydia bitches at him. Not regretting too much, Peter doesn’t have time for a conscience. He busies himself with kicking up leaves instead of fully focusing on Lydia giving him a verbal bashing.

“Stop kicking leaves, they all fly back to me when you do that,” Lydia snaps.

At that Peter just kicks them hard and higher into the air, “My apologies your majesty.”

“Seriously, stop. How old are you?” Lydia moves off to the side towards a hill of trees.

“Technically I was thirty-three when I died, I kind of feel like I stopped aging though,” Peter means it to be serious, but of course it comes out sarcastic.

Lydia looks back at Peter, “Jeez, does that mean you’re thirty-seven now? Believe me you didn’t stop aging… The years have not been kind to you.”

“It’s only been four year! I’m not a fossil.”

Lydia rolls her eyes mumbling, “ _You should be_ ,” and continues up the hill, Peter in tow; looking a bit grumpy now. When she stops walking Peter runs into her, losing a bit of balance, he slides back down the hill with a curse.

“Shhh, get down,” Lydia hisses back to him.

Peter does as told, shuffling to look over the hill with Lydia. Below is an open grove, a fire in the middle. Torches lit around the circle of velvet tents that surround the fire, between the two biggest tents sits a table with food so rich Peter’s nose twitches. Chairs line the table each filled with figures so tall and beautiful they’re almost blinding. They all look carved from the finest marble, bathed in silks of dark purples and blues, their hair long and flowing or tried up in a tangle of braids. They all move gracefully picking up food for shining plates or golden goblets of wine.

Peter watches as one holds a hand up gesturing to the boar that’s spinning over the fire. No, not the boar, the creature spinning the boar. A goblin. It’s a short thing with wrinkly skin, black beady eyes and sharp teeth that look like razors. More come out of the tents farthest from the table chirping and growling in noises that make Peter want to cover his ears.

He looks at Lydia, wanting to put his hand on her shoulder, even knowing it could get him a slap. It’s just he can smell the panic and worry coming off of her. It’s making his monster of a wolf squirm within in him. The coppery taste of blood suddenly fills his mouth and he can feel his eyes turn blue, making the world around him grey.

Reaching to dig his claws into his leg he whines low and soft and Lydia turns to him.

“Peter? Are you ok?”

That just makes the smell worse, but Peter just nods stiffly, jerking back at the campsite. Lydia frowns and looks back but then reaches to shake Peter.

“They have Parrish!” She whispers, but it’s more of a scream to his ears. He let out a strangled yell that comes out a bark as his head fills with pain. When he looks back up every fae is turned to look towards them, the goblins now quiet.

Parrish is on his knees in the middle of the goblin crowd, nose bleeding and arm looking a bit out of place. It’s then Peter knows these fae are not here for a human prize. He realizes that the air around him is cold and the dark colors in the grove point to the dark fae. The Winter Fae .

He can feel his head begin to pound again and the goblins begin to scream and chirp when Parrish looks up to meet the eyes of his pack members. Parrish coughs, spitting up blood that looks blackish blue. Peter knows he isn’t human. He’s always known, but this is more than he expected. Parrish crawls towards them on his hands and knees the goblins getting louder around him. The figures at the table are now standing up, eyes gone as full blown as the little monster they’re keeping.

Green eyes meet Peter’s blue ones and Parrish smiles, showing the blood on his teeth. Parrish nods slowly, reeking of remorse. Of sadness and _fucking_ anger. Then softly, as if he’s whispering a secret to Peter and Lydia he speaks. “Run.”

Peter only has enough time to see Parrish hit the floor until he wolfs out. Lydia screams next to him no doubt still looking at Parrish, but Peter can’t have her slow him down. He lift her up, slinging her over his shoulder and starts to run west, towards Scott.

Lydia is finally snapping out of her banshee states and cursing at Peter. “Shit, Peter, put me down! We have to go back for Parrish!”

He can’t tell if she’s crying or not but he doesn’t stop moving until he hear screeching behind him. Looking behind he sees the goblins, crawling towards them like ants.

“Peter go!” Lydia punching him on his back and he books it again.

“You know you could help out instead of just riding along,” he barks at her.

“Fine, hold on.”

Peter falters in running for a second as Lydia’s body uncomfortably slides off his shoulder, her arms hanging around his neck a moment before her legs wrap around his torso. She moves her arms so they’re on one side of his head, her back straight like she’s sitting in a chair to see what’s behind them.

“If you drop me, I’ll kill you,” she sneers.

In any other situation Peter would be pleased with how sexual this way of having Lydia on him would be. Not so much right now, her shoes are digging into his back and he’s bent at an angle with one arm still around her waist as he runs. He can feel her pull something from the vest and suddenly shrieks sound behind him. She throws another one and more screams come from the goblins.

“They’re catching up!” Lydia yells.

“Well, you’re not as light as you look!”

“Shut up!” She comes back. She reaches for something else out of the vest, but what she throws only works on the goblins for a second before it brings Peter down as well. His legs fall out from underneath him and he has just enough time to roll with Lydia as not to crush her with weight.

“What the hell, Lydia?!” Peter covers his ears, “You threw a fucking stunning ball!”

Lydia curses and looks from where they ran from. The goblins are still making their way towards them and Lydia’s panic and fear are messing with Peter’s senses. Turning into the ground he holds his head and whines. It takes him a minute to register Lydia’s shouting and he looks up to see the goblins circling around them.

“Peter! Peter get up!”  She was yelling at him,. He stands up slowly, pulling her close to him and she doesn’t stop him. She pulls out the throwing knives she had been practicing with for the last three years. The goblins hiss and scream around them clearly waiting for an order. A single fae walks to them, through the horde of goblins. His hair is long and black, reaching past his shoulders. The robe he wears is darkish and black like Parrish’s blood had been.

He stops in front of them, studying them. Reaching his hand out for Lydia’s face, Peter growls but she’s quick and throws out the arm that the knife is in.  It cuts his skin, and the smell of metal and blood reach Peter’s nose. Lydia gasps as the knife in her hand disappears and the cut on the fae’s hand arm follows.

Peter lets out a snarl then tips his head back, howling for his pack.

“It is a shame,” smiles the fae,”I thought you were one of the strong ones.” Suddenly Peter’s howl is cut off and he tries to claw at his neck, but can’t move. It feels like someone’s hand is wrapped around his throat and he sinks to the ground.

“Peter?!” Lydia is on the ground next to him trying to feel what is around his neck but there’s nothing. “Let him go!” She screams at the fae. “Let him go! You’re killing him!”

In the back of Peter’s mind he’s confused that someone who hate him so much could be begging for him not to be killed. It makes him feel dizzy, but that may just be the loss of breath.

“Let him go? What will you do for me?” The fae comes closer grabbing Lydia’s face in his hand. “What could a measly human do for me?”

“I’m not human.” The fae lets go of Lydia with a jerk.

“I suppose you came for the man.” The fae says at a still squirming Peter. “Deal.”

Holding his robe, the fae twists his wrist and Parrish emerges from the dark color, bloody and bruised.

“I will take a beautiful banshee over one of my own any day.” Lydia eyes widen as she opens her mouth to scream, but the scream never comes. She’s gone from sight as is the fae before any sound can come from her mouth. The hold on Peter’s neck is gone and he rasps out a sharp “ _no_ ”, trying to stand. Ugly little goblins flee for the direction of the fae camp and Peter still hasn’t moved.

His wolf is scratching at him from behind his eyes and his chest hurts. It’s like someone set his chest on fire and he knows it’s the madness. He howls loud and clear. Full of pain and he knows he’s scared. Can taste the fear on his own tongue. No one else’s but his. His wolf is craving power, craving more anger than it already has. He can feel his own body convulse and gasp for all the air it can get.

Peter feels his hands being pressed down suddenly. The pain coming out of him, lulling him to almost passing out. When his eyes clear he’s looking up at Stiles, he can smell Derek somewhere near him. Probably checking Parrish. Further off he can hear more of the pack nearing. Then he sees Scott in the corner of his eye, approaching from his left.

Peter jumps up so quick it knocks Stiles to the ground. Rushing at Scott, he tackles the alpha down and the two roll for a second snapping and clawing. Peter rears up, grabbing Scott to smack against a tree and they growl at each other for a moment.

“They took her! Where the hell were you?! I fucking called you! I _fucking_ howled you son of a bitch.” Peters arm gets clawed for the last sentence and he releases Scott.

“We got here right after you howled!”

Peter snaps his jaws sharply and turns to see Derek standing in-between him and Stiles.

“Typical,” he hisses and looks back at Scott, “We were in a time bubble.”

Kira appears next to Scott, her sword clutched in her hand, “They stopped time?”

“To take Lydia, yes.” Peter looks back to where Lydia had knelt next to him. “That’s who they came for, not Parrish.”

“Actually…” All five of them turn to grounded Parrish. The man is clutching his chest and turns to cough more blackish-blue blood spilling from his mouth. “They were here for me at-“ more coughing, “at first.”

Stiles steps away from Derek to take out his pocketknife, but Parrish waves his hand.

“What do you mean they were here for you?” Scott grabs Parrish’s arm, pulling him to his feet and wait for the man to answer.

“You’re one of them!” Spits Peter, remembering what the fae had said about one of his own, and he moves to lunge but Derek holds him back.

“You mean you’re a fae?” Stiles looks at Parrish confused. “What the hell man, we played Mario Kart together. Now Lydia’s gone because of your ass.” Stiles moves again for his pocket knife but Kira moves towards him and slaps his hand away.

“Yes, I’m one of them, but I can explain!”

Suddenly it’s Scott in Parrish’s space. He’s growling and snapping as the man starts to back up from the rest of them. “You better explain! No wonder we never figured it out, we can’t smell you.”

“Look,” Parrish’s hands go up in surrender, “You know I would never hurt any of you! I’m fae on my fathers side, but that’s all I have to do with them! My half-brother visits sometimes to bully me into coming back with him, but I’m more human than Winter Fae! I swear, they just saw Lydia and it’s like all their attention suddenly went to her!”

“Still, Winter Fae is the dark one. How do we know we can trust you?” Peter snarls.

Stiles marches towards Scott and the deputy, finally taking out his knife. Peter can smell Kira’s worry when she sees. Derek lets go of him and moves behind Stiles ready to stop him if necessary.

“We can Stiles, he wasn’t lying,” mumbles Derek, close to his friends ear. “He wouldn’t risk lying to Scott, I do have to wonder why you never told us.” Derek says the last part looking at Parrish as he gently grabs Stiles arms.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t hurt him! Everything we know about him is ruined now!” Stiles cheeks are blotched with pink from anger and he only loosens his grip when Derek’s hand softly travels down his arm to pull the knife away.

“Filth,” Peter spits and flashes his eyes at the half-fae man.

“I can help you guys and you’re still my pack.” Parrish’s eyes plead with Scott.

“He’s right, Scott,” Kira mumbles.

Scott gives a pained sigh and backs away from Parrish, “Get everyone to ron de vu

back at the loft, if that’s okay.” Derek nods and pulls Stiles with him as the two walk towards town. Kira kisses Scott on the corner of his mouth and nods for Parrish to come with her.

Peter stands rigidly, trying not to shake with anger.

“Peter.”

He growls at Scott and is given a frown.

“I can smell it, so don’t deny it, plus Derek told me. You’re losing control.”

“Yeah, I am,” Peter chokes out.

“How long?”

Peter shakes his head and hisses at the pain, “A week.”

Scott grips Peter’s shoulder and sucks the pain out as best he can.

“It’s not me hurting,” he straightens and begins walking forward with Scott.

“It’s your wolf?”

“Yes.”

“Is it mad?” Scott asks with a sidelong glance.

“Most likely.”

-

When everything that happened it explained and Parrish shares that he is indeed half fae (earning him a growl from Malia) Derek calls Deaton. As they wait, Scott tells everyone that Peter’s wolf has been lashing out.

“Lashing out how?” Stiles fidgets with the string on his hoodie.

“I won’t hurt anyone,” Lie, “Actually, I don’t know if I will.”

“Great!” Yells Stiles throwing his hands up in the air and goes to the kitchen, “Because the last time your wolf took over everything was great! I can’t wait for you to go on another killing spree!” Derek sighs and follows the younger man behind the wall of the kitchen.

“Stiles is right,” Jackson mumbles, “Last time people got hurt.”

Parrish grunts from his spot on the couch, trying to not meet anyone’s eyes. Scott’s next to him, obviously guarding him since Peter lunged for him again when everyone got back.

“Do you all trust me so little to think I would still purposely hurt you,” silence gives him the answer, ”Pitiful, anything I do won’t be as bad as what those Winter Fae are doing to Lydia,” Peter sinks into the chair next to the television. A sudden feeling of guilt washes over him and he tries to replace it with anger so no one can smell. Malia is already walking over to him though, dropping to her knees to look up at him.

“Peter, from what you told us you couldn’t move. It’s not your fault.” Peter can feel his anger beginning to bubble up inside him. “You couldn’t have stopped-“

“A skinny fae against Peter,” Jackson looks around the pack, “I think you could have stopped the fae, you just didn’t want to. You made it look like you got choked and couldn’t fight back. There’s something in it for you, always is.”

“Your criticism is _so_ important to me, Jackson,” rolling his eyes Peter smiles softly at Malia.

“Is it true though?” Stiles frowns from the kitchen door, Derek squinting at him in frustration.

Malia falls back as Peter jumps up, turning to rip a clawed hand through the chair and growls at the boy.

“I had to lay on the ground like a dying human. I had to watch him take her. Do you think, _Stiles_ , that I would be so concerned about getting more power from a fae stealing someone that gives me power? If Lydia dies, I die as well!” Out of the corner of his eye Peter sees Liam push Morgan back from him even though they’re across the room. In the middle of snapping his teeth at the movement Peter suddenly feels his chest swells in pain. A pounding inside his head brings him to the floor and only gets worse when he doesn’t move to get up.

He can hear people rushing around him.The acrid scent of panic spikes, coming in waves off of Malia and Derek, then everything goes black.

 

“I’d say it’s a good thing I got to you in time.” Peter blinks at the sound of Deaton’s voice, squinting when bright lights greet him. Groaning as he makes to sit up, the cold metal of the vet table makes him flinch. Looking around he sees Scott leaning against one of the counters; Stiles perched on it next to him. Derek’s leaning against the door clearly trying to ignore Stiles’ glares. Deaton is closest to him, smiling wide, like he knows every secret in the world.

“I am so happy everyone’s here to greet me,” rolling his eyes, Peter swings his legs over the table and jumps off.

“You should be,” Deaton frowns, “I heard your wolf has been going wild. Even causing you to faint.”

Oh, good. Peter defiantly wanted every supernatural being to know he couldn’t control himself. He really did not need the wrong people to find out. Chris Argent? Yeah, fine. Let that guy know, but he would help find a solution before putting a bullet through his head. At least Peter hoped he would.

He had apologized for going after Allison when he was alpha. His whole family had been burnt alive and being in a kind of coma to walk around in his subconscious for years really wasn’t a healthy way for him to heal. Even then, he knew Chris still had a big problem with him since he hadn’t been at the battle where his daughter was killed.

“Can you fix it?” he sighs finally.

“Only you have the power to do that,” smiles the vet.

Peter glares at him for a moment, the smell of animals and chemicals finally reaching his nose. “If you can’t help me I am going to leave now.”

“I can give you something to temporarily help keep the wolf at bay,” Deaton grabs a vile, holding it high for all to look at. It’s a dark red color, flecks of gold and white mixed into it and Peter can’t smell anything coming from it.

“Like a cage?” Peter raises an eyebrow at the vet.

“Exactly.”

“What is it?” squinting at the vile, Stiles comes closer, “Some sort of wolfy-wolfs bane medicine?”

“Actually, you’re right Stiles,” Deaton hands it to the boy, “And you’re the one going to give it to Peter.”

“What?” Peter looks between the two.

“Peter-“

“No, I agree with Peter!” Stiles exclaims, “I’m not exactly a Doctor, hell I’m not even an actor who plays a doctor. And the only doctor I watch is Dr. Who and I am one hundred percent sure he is not a licensed medi-”

Scott grabs the vile from Stiles, “How is he going to give it to Peter?”

“He’s going to do what he does best. Be a Spark of course.”

“No.” Derek snarls from the door, “Stop making him do things that aren’t parlor tricks. Moving mountain ash or making a circle of it is one thing, so is healing emotions to a point. Last time he did something where he had to be a Spark nearly got him killed. This-“

“He needs to do this,” Deaton declares calmly, “None of the wolves can do it because placing the rune like this on another wolf is harmful to them. Morgan can’t do it because he has no spark.”

“What about Danny?” Derek pleads.

“Danny isn’t human and you are all fully aware of that. Have been for years. What Danny would likely do is set Peter’s wolf and insides on fire rather than calm it down.”

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do anyway,” Stiles takes the vile back from Scott then turns to look at Derek, “You’re not in charge of me, Derek. Stop acting like you are or will be. You’re no ones alpha and you sure as hell weren’t a good one when you were, remember?”

Derek flinches as if he had been  slapped. He’s quiet for a moment, then slips out the door. It doesn’t take werewolf senses to know that Stiles feels guilty about the comment and whatever their fight had been over, insulting was not the answer.

“Good job, as if my nephew isn’t already messed up,” sneers Peter.

“Shut up,” Stiles snaps, but there’s defeat in his voice. “Just tell me how to fix Peter,” he whispers softly to Deaton.

 

“You’re really going to cut Peter up?” Asks Scott nervously, as if Peter isn’t even there. He shuffles for a bit, looking at his friend with worry, and all Peter can do is roll his eyes.

When anything like this comes up, where someone in his pack knows they’re going to be hurt, Scott always freaks out. Turns into the human Scott, that’s nervous and more stupid than the Scott that allows his instincts and better judgment rule him.

“You were there when I found out I had to do this,” setting the vile of  ‘magical medicine’ wolfsbane on the kitchen island,Stiles then turns to take out a wine glass.

“Please tell me you at least got me a good wine,” Peter huffs.

“You should be happy with any type of wine you get, considering I had Jackson sneak into his grandparents house and get it.” That had not been a very fun conversation, and Peter knew that in doing so, Stiles was saying he accepted Peter as pack. It wasn’t everyday he would have people in his own pack claim that they stood with him.

Lydia had said more than once that he was greedy and power-hungry. Even after he would give them information to help with whatever problem they had. He’d point that out to her, but she would always take control of the conversation and go back to how anything he did benefited him. Peter never told her she was wrong.

They put up with him for his quick wit and ability to figure out people’s weaknesses along with small pieces of information he could always give them. Needing the brute strength on their side; sometimes they would request his presence and Peter was perfectly okay with that. His wolf was waiting for the moment to strike the weakest of the pack, then move his way up.

Peter shakes his head and hisses when he sinks teeth into his tongue. “Hurry,” the older werewolf rumbles.

The alpha twitches, “You don’t have to do this Stiles, we can put him in a mountain ash circle.”

Stiles nods, but begins pouring some wine out into the glass then adding the special wolfsbane. Pulling out his pocketknife, he set it against his forearm, waves of anxiety rolling off him. He looks at Scott, winks (Peter rolls his eyes), and presses the edge of the knife in a clean line against his skin. Hissing in slight pain, the two werewolves present to hear the soft whimper of Derek upstairs, Stiles twist’s his arm over the glass so a steady trickle of blood falls into it.

After a second, the droplets of blood still in the air, freeze as if deciding they were not meant to fall. Stiles reaches out with a hand gathering each droplet in his palm and blinks slowly as they form a larger bubble.

“You should drink it now,” he says quietly to Peter, a slight smirk on his face as he stares at his own blood.

Peter doesn’t know how he feels about that smirk, the one that will sometimes creep onto Stiles’ face when he knows he done something ‘wickedly cool’ and powerful. As much as Peter loves power, he is no fan of a nogitsune’s power. It was more chaos than even the darker side of himself that he could handle. Maybe.

There are still traces of how the Nogitsune  took control of Stiles.like the time a warlock had started raging after Liam and Morgan.Liam had still been learning to control his shift, and although sometimes he was as “douche baggie” (Stiles’ words) as Jackson had been, he knew when running was a good thing. The leather-skinned man had backed them up in an alley. Morgan had already received a broken leg by the time the pack had arrived.

Balls of fire flew from the man’s palms each missing Stiles, but always landing to hit someone else. One had ended up hitting Derek directly in the chest and his nephew was sent flying away as Peter watched bored from a small water tower on one of the buildings. He’d watched Stiles turn to look at Derek, worry and anger showing in his eyes.

Slipping his trusty pocket knife out Stiles had quickly and calmly cut down one of his fingers. Seeing the movement the warlock bared it’s sharp teeth and threw a ball of fire at the Spark, but the ball of fire was split in half by a string of blood that whipped from Stiles’s hand like a lasso. Long and red it flew as Stiles swung his arm at the warlock, slicing the creature’s arm clean off.

No one knew what had happened, only that when it had, Stiles had a dark look in his eyes. Peter recognized that look as the same he wore when he tore out Kate’s throat years ago.. Stiles’ eyes had looked a bit hollow as he turned away from the warlock moaning in pain and asking for mercy. Stiles had only blinked and the look was gone as he moved towards Derek, once a worried boy again and a bit disgusted at the smell of warlock blood.

So when Peter is told to take a drink, he does. Gulps it all in one take, trying to focus on the wine more than anything else.

He feels his body shake hopelessly and all of a sudden there’s a knife in his back, cutting into the skin with no remorse. It curves and dots on his skin, burning him like the fire that burnt his family. Then there are hands on the mark; he feels it start to burn even more. He faints. Again.

-

Peter really needs to stop this. Fainting. It made him feel weak. Made him look weak. Made him know he isn’t fully wolf when he faints and… Oh. That’s good. Peter can feel everything around him. Smell it. He knows he’s in his room before he even opens his eyes. Knows that the mental part of his wolf is asleep, somehow sedated.

“Peter?” It’s Lydia’s voice. Maybe Peter is dead again. His luck, he would be dreaming about spoiled rotten, too confident, yet not confident enough for her own good, your majesty, Queen Lydia. His inner jokes please him and he snorts. “Peter wake up!”

It’s a whisper of a hiss, but he can hear it with his super human ears. He’s thankful of that, the wolfsbane and rune silenced his wolfs and not the powers he had from it. He opens his eyes admitting to himself that he is indeed still alive.

“ _Finally_.” Says Lydia, although Peter cannot smell her anywhere.

He blinks, a bit confused by why he’s on his stomach, but succeeds in keeping his familiar face of being unsurprised. “I can’t even see you,” he sneers.

“The mirror, Peter.” Her voice is soft and unsure. He moves to sit up and looks across the room where his tall mirror sits by the window. The wood framing and the glass are charred, burnt from the fire that happened so many years ago. Hinges long rusted so the mirror can’t be moved or flipped in the way it had been able to. He remembers his first mates reflection staring back at him with a smile playing on her beautiful face. Remembers how soft he was because she was his and he was hers. How she could beat back his sarcasm with her own playfulness, and how they could always be together when they wanted. No death to part them.

Peter still loves her. He’s fallen out of love with her, yes, but he has never stopped loving her memory. Slipping out of bed, he reaches for the mirror, running his hand over the top right corner, where the only unburnt part of the wood is.

For once his wolf isn’t punching at him with anger, longing and sadness when he looks at it. He has his own anger, longing and sadness and blinks away a tear that he could feel in his eye. Sniffing, he feels the darkness in his heart grow, but it doesn’t hurt this time. It’s his darkness, not the wolf’s.

“Peter?”

He looks into the glass of the mirror and smiles at the red head. She’s as gorgeous as the day she was taken. And seeing as Peter’s neck feels a bit stiff, he says it’s been a couple of days. Knowing he’s making her nervous by the slight set of her mouth he laughs loudly. “Your majesty.”

By the way she’s dressed she looks like royalty. She’s got a dark black dress on, hugging her in all the right places and making her look more pale than she is. A silver crown of leaves lays on her head, the tips of the leaves turning to a green that bring out the young woman's eyes. The cloak she wears has silver threads and delicate designs of leaves in the black fabric. Allison’s belt still sits on her perfectly outlined hips and Peter has to wonder why the fae let her keep it. She’s as beautiful as ever.

The only noticeable difference about her is the long scratch down her arm. It’s angry and red, the skin swollen to great whoever sees it. Peter wants to growl, and that confuses him. His wolf is supposed to be asleep.

“Tasteless as ever with that nickname,” she mockingly laughs.

“You’ve never asked me to stop and I think we both know I like how you taste” he says, almost too tame to be counted as his usual snark or sarcasm.

She smirks, then her eyes go wide, “You’re disgusting… How can you see me?”

Peter would answer if he could, he can’t smell her. Which bothers him very much. “I need to tell Scott and everyone else to get here.” He doesn’t know why he tells her this, as if asking for her permission, but when she nods slowly he goes to get his phone.

Scott doesn’t answer on the first call, so he leaves a message and tries Derek.

“What?” Snaps his nephew, sounding a bit winded and Peter smirks to himself.

“I’m awake.”

“No shit.”

Peter grunts, “As much as you amuse me with your brooding attitude, you need to unhook yourself from your boytoy,” there’s a growl, “and come here. Now.”

“Why would-“

“It’s Lydia. She’s here.”

“She’s with you?” Derek asks before Peter hears sheets moving, a thump, Stiles cursing and Derek making a yelp.

“Hello? Peter, is Lydia with you?” Stiles all but yells.

“Not quite,” he says looking back at the girl who’s now glaring at him.

 

“Shit,” Scott mumbles looking at the mirror as Kira moves closer reaching to touch it. Peter grabs at her wrist, earning himself a growl from Scott.

“Don’t touch the mirror.”

“Why?” Stiles twitches beside Scott, the smell of sex coming off of him and Derek, who stands behind Stiles. “Is it a family heirloom? Do dark secrets lay within it’s woodiness?”

“No,” Derek mumbles against his new mates ear, “But it’s very special to Peter, thus part of his territory.”

“I thought Peter was one of us though?” Ethan cocks his head with the question and Peter’s eyes draw to Danny remembering what Deaton had said about him.

“I am, but I’m still detached,” sniffs Peter.

“A Hale belongs to the Hale pack,” Derek looks to Scott, “Hales will always be detached, because right now there is nothing truly bonding us. We are obviously your friends, and can be categorized as family, but there is no marriage, treaty or law that binds us permanently to the pack. We will recognize your howls and calls as pack, but there’s still something that parts us all. I don’t quite know how it works, my mother never shared it with me. It’s just a feeling.”

Peter can smell the distress on Stiles and snorts, turning to look back at Lydia who is still patiently waiting for everyone to stop talking. Parrish moves through the small crowd of people right up to the mirror. He doesn’t touch it and he only looks at Peter once before he walks behind it.

When he’s back in front of it he stares at Lydia, “You’re in my families estate.”

Everyone falls quiet, giving their full attention to Lydia.

“I guess that’s where I am, but how did you know? You can only see me, right?”

“Yes,” Parrish nods, “But that’s why I know. Winter Fae mirrors, when used to communicate with others, only show the person because everything beyond them is personal.”

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks stiffly.

“I am. I’ve actually been pretty busy. They’ve let me in their library. I eat really good food and I-“

“Stop,” snarls Peter, “Stop acting as if it’s some great daytime spa where you can catch up on your summer reading. That’s not what it is.”

“Peter,” he hears Malia hiss and he can see Lydia’s face fall.

“You’re stuck in a fucking different dimension. We don’t even know how we’re suppose to get her back or how she’s here now.”

Peter knows he shouldn’t say stuff like that and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly angry. It’s just that even though his wolf is asleep he feels like he should take responsibility for her being taken and it’s hard to do when she seems just fine. Which sounds even worse than what he said to her, as if he wants her to be hurting. He knows he’s not the only one who noticed the scratch on her arm, the other’s are only choosing not to bring it up.

“Actually,” pipes Jackson, “Jordan found a way.”

Jordan? Oh yeah, Parrish. “And, what is he going to do for us. Walk us into a trap no doubt.”

“No,” Parrish throws a glare at Peter, “We’re going to get her out. We just have to find a hellhound.”

“A hellhound?” Scott glances at Kira. “How safe is that exactly?”

“Not that safe,” sighs Lydia, pointedly not looking at Peter, “There are a couple here. They stalk the hallways and gardens during the night looking for trespassers. The second day I was here a man came to the room where Thed and I were eating-“

“Thed?” Peter blinked at her. “Who is Thed?”

“My half-brother,” Parrish mumbles, “You can’t trust him, Lydia.”

She nods, a bit tense, “I don’t.”

“Wait,” Stiles looks at everyone then back to Lydia, “How are you talking to us through a mirror?”

“I was just thinking about that while all of you were on your way. I was sitting here, just wondering about-“

“Me?” Stiles perks, “Aww, Lydia you shouldn’t have.” Then in a very serious way Stiles bats his lashes and says, “Am I the fairest of them all?”

She laughs and the tension that was there earlier is gone. Her laugh fills Peter’s bedroom and he can feel every pack member relax. Abruptly, she stops, her eyes wide, head turned to look at some unknown thing.

“I have to go,” she bites her lip, looking apologetic, “I’m fine, don’t worry. And the reason I can talk to you all is because of Peter. He was the last person with me before I was taken. I’ll be back later I promise.”

Then she’s gone, the pack only looking at themselves in the mirror now.

“How do we find a hellhound?” Scott asks turning to Parrish.

 

Peter is well aware that most people in the pack are wary of him. He can smell nervousness roll off them when one of them is in the same room with him, the pack doesn’t view him as a person, at least that’s what he thinks. They view him as more of an animal. After all, he killed Laura, turned Scott, bit Lydia as a precaution and backup plan when he knew things were started to go sour for him.He doesn’t feel welcomed, ever.

If he died now, it wouldn’t matter, he would still be able to come back. All it would take is Lydia talking to his ghost and a kiss. Sometimes Peter feels bad for making her do that. Not bringing him to life, no, he’s happy about that, obviously. The way he had to do it though.

He loved kissing her. Feeling her soft delicate lips against his. Loved the way he put his hand on the back if her neck without meaning harm. The way they had dived in again for another one after the first, second, then third. What bothered him was that he couldn’t give her that again. He had come out of the ground as old and as dirty as he had been when he killed Laura.

He’d always liked the way she would flinch away from him after that. Her looks of distrust fired up the wolf in him, knowing that he had someone fear him. Then she started getting stronger. Started talking back and instead of his wolf getting mad it started to pine for her, it was taking an interest.

It would watch the way she’d flip her hair over her shoulder, roll her eyes at something stupid someone did. Kiss Allison on the cheek. Yell at Jackson. Laugh at Stiles. Hug Morgan.  Braid Kira’s hair. Pat Isaac on the head. Glare at Peter.

He loved the way she would glare at him. Snap at him to shut up. Only occasionally did nervousness or fear roll off her when she was near Peter. It had slowly stopped when she started training with Allison’s knives. Throwing them out of curiosity, but never missing her target. He knew she carried one with her when she wasn’t around the pack.

He’s watching her play with one now. Flipping it in her hand as she sits back against a chair he can’t see. He can see her from the waist up and she snorts when she looks up seeing Peter watching her.

“It is your room you know.”

He startles slightly and slinks into his room, his den. A smirk slides on to his face, but it’s more forced than anything.

“Sorry, princess.”

Huffing, she puts the knife back into the belt, “Stop calling me that.”

“As you wish sweetheart,” Peter sits on the edge of his bed, studying her as much as he can.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” she sighs,  “I didn’t lie when I said I could talk to you all through the mirror-“

“Because of me.” He watches her squint at him, she hates being interrupted. It was worth it though and he smiles at her.

“It’s because of you biting me. We have some connection that allows me to reach out to you.”

“I know, you’ve used it before. I’ve just never answered because I didn’t see any reason to.” Peter reaches for his book on the bedside table and begins to flip through it.

“You’ve never answered because you didn’t see fit?” There is poison in her voice now. “All the times we were in trouble, you never answered? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“My dear Ms. Martin, you were never in any real danger. I knew all of you could figure it out.”

“This is why you aren’t truly part of the pack.” His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide at her declaration. “You’re selfish and I should have just let Thed kill you.”

“Who says I ever wanted to be part of this pack.” It isn’t a question and he feels like there’s no reason for it be.

“Where is everyone else?”

“Out looking for a hellhound.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“I wasn’t asked,” the wolf sniffs, “I’ll go when we come to get you.”

She nods slowly and messes with her belt for a second, “Did you hear me when Allison died?” she asks it quietly, obviously wanting to return to the previous topic.

Peter suddenly feels like he should leave. Leave his own room. Leave the town. The country. The world. Anything to get away from the question he should have known was coming.

“Did you hear me when the nogitsune had me? What about last year, when that evil spirit had me? Don’t give me that look, I know you remember.”

Sighing, Peter puts his book down and walks to the mirror, “Don’t look into what I’m about to say to you too much,” _otherwise you might guess how my wolf feels about you,_ “I don’t need you getting the wrong idea,” _or maybe figuring out that I agree with the wolf about you sometimes_ , “but I am sorry. Truly, I am.”

She sneers and if he was there with her, he’s pretty sure she would slap him. “You would let us all die before you stepped into a fight.”

“You know that’s not true-“

“I don’t give a shit if it’s true or not, it’s what I see. What all of us see from you. You stepped in with the fae because you had no choice. Without me you can’t come back if you die or maybe you’ll die with me. You need me for whatever game you’re still playing after all these years. You’re a coward, Peter Hale. Don’t you ever fucking deny it either.” Then she’s gone, having walked away from the mirror with no desire to keep talking to him and he can’t blame her.

 

“It’s not unknown for a werewolf to be able to physically make injuries go away.” Deaton sits down across from Kira at the kitchen island. She’d cut up her shoulder on a piece of metal running from the hellhound and when Scott had ran his hand over the cut Kira’s skin had slowly knit itself back together. “I’m actually quite surprised Derek and Stiles didn’t tell you this. Stiles wouldn’t have his cut from helping Peter if he and Derek hadn’t figured it out.” Peter glances over at the two. Stiles stills from shoving a piece of pizza into his mouth and the tips of Derek’s ears go red.

“Yeah,” swallows Stiles, “Derek didn’t use his hand though…”

Derek has a coughing fit as Scott winces and Kira coos.

“Please don’t tell me he touched your cut with his dick because I’m pretty sure that’s unsanitary or something,” Scott says uncomfortably.

Deaton chuckles at Derek’s look of disgust and Stiles gives his best friend a ‘what the fuck’ look. “No, what the hell Scott?”

“You licked him didn’t you,” Peter deadpans, a look of complete unimpressed on his face.

Derek walks out and Stiles starts to babble about how it’s “not that bad, just tickles a bit when-“ as he is dragged out with his mate.

Kira is smiling big now, looking at Scott with a sparkle in her eye.

 

“Two days?” the look of horror on Lydia’s face is bit funny at she stares at her alpha.

“Yes…” Scott sends a nervous look towards Kira.

“We got the key from the hellhound, making the door just takes so much energy out of Stiles we don’t want to push it. We want to save you and not lose anyone in the process.”

Looking at Stiles, Lydia nods, then reaches for her belt and pulls out a pocket watch, “This watch still works for me. A man that’s been trapped her for years gave me it. Apparently, because I’m a banshee there is a barrier protecting me from the rules that affect time here.

“Why didn’t it work when we were attacked then?” Peter squints at the girl as she answers without even looking at him.

“I think the only reason it didn’t work when I was with Peter was because of just that. Thed didn’t mess with my time, he messed with Peter’s.”

“What happened to your arm?” The oldest wolf in the room grits out.

That does earn him a look and her eyes go a bit soft, “I’m alright. When I got here the goblins were told to take me to this room and one scratched me, but because part of the things in this belt have iron in them I just beat them away. That’s the only reason I still have the belt by the way, because fae’s hands and magic can’t touch the iron.” She smiles softly at Peter, the looks she had from their conversation the day before are gone.

He’d slept on the couch last night, fearing that Lydia might turn to wherever the mirror sat and catch him off guard.

“How does time work there?” Stiles cocks his head, curious for the answer.

“It’s been it’s been six days here, but since I’m still going by the real worlds time I haven’t had six days of sleep.”

“So it feels like this is the fourth day you’ve been gone?”

Lydia nods at Scott, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to hurry.”

 

The first days goes with Scott and Kira telling everyone about the plan to get Lydia back. How Stiles is making the door and how they will be leaving on Sunday to go into the world of the Fae. Parrish draws out a map for everyone to see, pointing out places to stay away from and where his families land is.

“No one should go anywhere near the Winter Queen’s castle, in fact we shouldn’t even be on the road that leads to there. We’ll go through the forest.”

“Great,” Derek grumbles, rolling his eyes and Stiles smirks at him, “Because being in the forest before a rescue or fight has always worked out for us.”

“If that’s what we have to do we’ll do it.” Scott mumbles as he looks at the map.

“Also,” Parrish moves towards the bag Stiles had given him the day before. Dumping the contents out, he beams. They look like little spikes of metal and Peter smiles when he realizes what they are,

“Iron tipped claws.”

“Not just iron tipped,” Stiles picks a couple up and turns to Derek, “They’re from some of Allison’s arrows too. I put iron on one side and bronze on the other, along with just a bit of silver at end. Last night Parrish fashioned them to be able to sit on your claws without falling off.” He grabs his lover’s hand, pushing the wolf’s palm so his claws flick out. He sets one on each claw and beams at Derek. “Good idea, right?”

“Genius,” mumbles Derek as he moves his fingers.

“We’ll all wear some for this,” Scott says, handing them out to his wolves.

Jackson waves them away when Scott gets to him, “My claws should still work on fae, right?”

Parrish smiles, “Yeah, they will,” looking at everyone he sighs, “There is one thing you all need to be aware of.”

“Great, just what we wanted. More complications,” Peter sneers.

“Besides all the creatures that I’ve already warned you about, there is one particularly that we need to look out for.”

“What is that?” Peter picks his teeth with one of the claw tips, “And could we easily beat it?”

“Faeland _is_ a different dimension, like Lydia told everyone, but it also has things in it that came from the human mind, like Neverland. Yes, Neverland is real, Stiles,” Parrish smiles at the wide eyed boy, “A long time ago when people were telling stories about things that go bump in the night they also made creatures of their own. The ones that were told over and over again gained more power along with the other beings that were in them."

"So spit it out, what creature is real that we need to be cautious of?" Peter hates when people keep things from him. It makes him feel out of control, makes him nervous.

"Not cautious of. Scared of." Parrish looks around the room, "Who ever goes to this place to save Lydia needs to be scared of him."

"Who?!" Hisses Derek, his patience having drained.

"The Big Bad Wolf."

Liam laughs, clutching his stomach and Morgan smiles at his boyfriend. Ethan gives Danny a _'big deal'_ look.

"From the three little pigs?" Isaac sticks his tongue out and Malia snickers, "I think we've taken on worse than the wolf that will huff and puff-"

"And blow our house down," Stiles finishes with a cackle as he leans against Derek.  

Frowning Parrish shakes his head, "He is in that story but he isn't just some mutt of a wolf you can laugh at."

"Then what is he?" Kira waves her hand at the part of the pack still giggling. "Tell us what's so dangerous about him."

"His stories are told to every generation. Some are changed to make him win, some show him soft. Others put him in a new story entirely. When the wolf was born he was born from pure darkness. Shadows whispered at him and raised him as their own. He hunts for sport and his payment isn't money or gold. It's for him to be added to a story."

"He becomes more powerful with every story." Peter's eyes snap to his alpha, "As soon as we step through that door he's going to be after us."

"Exactly," nods Parrish, "with every battle he will grow stronger. He's not to be trusted."

"Neither am I," snaps Peter, "We have to get Lydia back. Nothing can hold us back."

Scott stares at the older wolf for a moment. Squints as if trying to figure out what's going on in his head. Nodding slowly he reaches out to pat Peter's shoulder, Peter winces at the touch.

"We'll get her back."

 

"The other day," Lydia plays with a strand of hair thinking about her next words carefully, "you pissed me off."

"I gathered that," chuckling Peter sits up from the sofa to look at the mirror. After the meeting earlier that day Peter had given his okay to moving the mirror downstairs near the couch. It's late now, almost one in the morning and Peter knows he should sleep. "You don't have to apologize either. I like egging you on."

"You're pissing me off again," the red head smiks.

"Be careful Ms. Martin, you might rile me up. We wouldn't want me getting all hot and bothered. I do like when you stroke my ego," he winks at her as a wicked grin appears on his face.

She looks at him with disgust but goes quiet. Peter wishes he could smell whatever emotion is coming off her right now. It would make talking to her easier. She's playing with something on the other side of the mirror and he knows because he can hear whatever it is snap shut.

"Do you ever feel bad for killing Laura?"

A growl comes out of his mouth as he turns away from the girl to go get his laptop. When he comes back she's looking a bit guilty, but he waves his hand.

"I regret it every day. Would I still like to be alpha? Yes, the darkest part of my wolf and me would love to. I wouldn't hesitate to rip someone's throat out if the moment presented itself." Lydia's eyes have gone wide, panicked. "The reasonably tame part of my wolf, that I've had for the past day, wouldn't want me to hurt my own pack. Don’t look at me like that, in some weird way I am part of the pack even if I don’t act like it or say I’m not. Sooner or later though the control I have… Whatever is holding back the wolf, it will go away and I'll be blood thirsty again."

She nods, "Stiles told me Deaton mentioned that you could stop it. Do you know how?"

He frowns at her and shakes his head, "And if Stiles, Derek and I get separated when we go to save you it will break out of it's cage and I won’t be able to control it."

“Stiles is the one that put the wolfsbane in you, but how is he going to help you if it starts wearing off?”

“Probably have to use his blood magic to get whatever is left in my system to start working again.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I don’t know how long I’ll last,” Peter looks at his hands, “I was losing control quickly when they took you.”

“Stiles said your wolf wants power,”

“It wants everything.”

She’s quiet for a moment, obviously fighting to say something. “Is it true,” she begins then sighs, “Is it true if I die you’ll die too?”

Peter doesn’t know if he should say yes or no, so instead he slowly answers with, “I think that if you die I would be weaker in some way. If I died after you, I wouldn’t be able to come back.”

Peter doesn’t know why he said he would die if she did when he was losing control. It was just something that had come out when he was barking at Stiles and the rest of the pack after Lydia had been taken. He felt in his heart that if she died he surely would too. Not wanting to think if they were both destined to die in this battle with the fae he tries to distract her.

“Delight me Miss Lydia, I’m bored. Has anything interesting happened to you today?”

Lydia hums softly and looks up as if she’s trying to remember anything possibly interesting. “Thed taunted me some today,” she looks a bit uncomfortable at that but carries on, “I also found something on the Big Bad Wolf.”

Peter perks at that, “All we could find today was children’s stories and remakes filled with sweaty sex.”

“Well there’s a lot more to him than following Red to her grandmother’s house.”

“You know Derek in his wolf form always used to remind me of what the Big Bad Wolf might look like,” Peter gets up to grab a bottle of wine and a glass then comes back to settle on the sofa, “Tell me what you found.”

“There’s so many stories, I don’t know if I should tell you everything I found. Wouldn’t he get stronger?” She says it with a smirk on her face, delighted in the fact that she now knows something Peter doesn’t.

“What a couple little stories going to do? Beside, I admit, at this moment I am not full of my usual knowledge.”

“You’re admitting that I know more than you.” A smile spreads wide on the woman’s face.

“Well I’ve never doubted your ability about knowing as much as I do,” he waves his hand at her, “Honestly though, it’s late and anything you tell me could probably help us.”

“Before I tell you, where is everyone?”

“Well,” Peter sighs, pouring some wine into his glass, “Scott is probably worrying with Kira somewhere. Ethan and Danny are probably up watching Netflix and trying not to worry, they’re staying here to guard this side of the door. As are Liam, Morgan, Isaac and my daughter.” He takes a long drink then looks at the glass, “Jackson and Parrish are probably sleeping or reading, trying not to mention the oh so obvious sexual tension between them.”

“Parrish isn’t gay,” Lydia bats her lashes, “Neither is Jackson, not fully anyway.”

“Okay, okay. As much as I swoon when talking about all these men,” Peter drawls out, “I’d rather not. Hurry up and tell me about the wolf.”

“Wait… What about Stiles?”

Peter grins at her, snapping his canines. She winces then stares. “Where do you think our dear Stiles is, honestly princess?”

“Oh… _Oh!_ ” Then she’s laughing, her eyes crinkling and shoulders shaking, “With Derek.”

Nodding Peter laughs with her for a moment, “Yes, with Derek.”

When they’ve both quieted down and Peter has finished his glass, he refills it then waits for Lydia to return back to the mirror with a couple books in tow.

“Alright, these are all different stories about the wolf that have been recorded, meaning they’re not new. One even speculates how he came into the world.” She opens an old look book and props it against the mirror, it’s spine facing Peter.

“I’m listening,” he mumbles and watches her clear her throat.

“Alright.

 

_It is said that the wolf was born from the darkness. That he was raised by the shadows. All these things are true. One summer evening there was a fae walking through the mortal world. Winding through the trees she listened to the words of men and laughed at how foolish they were._

_Yet one story caught her attention. It was about a warrior, a thief, a murderer, and a king far stronger than all the other creatures of the forest. Even the fae. She set out to see if this wolf was real, but when she had looked through all of the land she found nothing and returned back to her court._

_One day the granddaughter of the faery that had searched for the wolf all those years ago came to a waterfall. Behind the fall lay complete darkness. Out of curiosity the fae child went to explore, but she was not as fast or agile as adult fae and she slipped down the rocks, far into the mountain._

_She bled out in the darkness, her voice never reaching the outside world. As her blood seeped into the ground around her, the shadows cried for her, for she had become silent in knowing she was going to die. She wished that she had been taller, faster and stronger to save herself, but there was no going back. Then she stopped breathing._

_In the mortal world, men and women still spoke of the wolf, scaring their children to make them behave. The shadows that traveled by the moonlight in that world were sparked with an idea. There was so much power coming from these stories they could not let them go to waste._

_Through the trees that the grandmother of the fallen fae child had once walked through, the shadows spoke to the darkness, claiming that they had an idea of what to do with all the power coming from the stories of the wolf or the fear and anger from children. The darkness obliged and taking the power from the ground bloom a wolf._

_His fur was as black as the darkness that birthed him. His eyes glowed a gold like riches._

_Craving power the wolf rose from the ground, stretching his powerful legs. He walked out of the forest, listening to the shadows as they whispered to him. When he reached a village, he heard all the mothers and fathers telling their children about him and he felt his soul open to the words._

_His eyes shown darker and his teeth grew sharper. He rushed into the village to steal and wreak havoc. To howl and roar at the people. When he was done he sunk back into the world of the fae and the shadows that had seen the fae girl die, beamed at the glory of the wolf that would surely cary strength to honor the girl._

 

Then it goes on to tell why that was an awful mistake for the shadows to make because the wolf wanted more and more power. He becomes an assassin for anyone as long as they carry on his story.” Lydia huffs and looks at Peter, now on his third glass.

“So it’s true what they say then?”

“Yes,” the red head looks at her nails for a moment, “Thed will call for him you know. He knows you’re coming.”

“I know he does, but I can’t afford to be afraid,” Peter says firmly.

“Not until he’s killing you.”

“Not until I’m dead.”

 

The night before they go into Parrish’s real world Peter falls asleep listening to Lydia. She sits there and watches him before leaning back in the chair drawing her knees up and sleeping along with him. What wakes Peter up is the end of a moan from upstairs and Derek’s voice shushing Stiles.

“You’re going to wake Peter up,” he can hear his nephew mumble.

“Let him hear me, I don’t think you mind people knowing I’m yours.”

A snort, “No, but I like my privacy.”

There’s silence for a bit before the boy mumbles, “…Do you think anyone will die?”

Peter hears Derek move the bedding around, probably getting better hold of Stiles. “I think there is always a chance someone will die. It’s just Peter, Scott, Kira and then Parrish and Jackson going. You and I can take the back if you want.”

“No,” hisses Stiles with a slight stutter. Peter rolls his eyes; Derek must be doing something gross to him. “Every time we come in behind everyone else something captures us and we get held up”

“It’s always your fault,” Derek kisses wherever he is on Stiles, “Why are you worrying? Usually you don’t let off how nervous you are. At least not out loud.”

“Peter is worried. You can see it in the way he’s been talking. He banters and he’s still his usual creepy asshole self, but I think he blames himself for Lydia. I think he actually cares about her.”

“I think you’re right,” Derek mumbles against his lover, “Peter’s wolf was out of control for a reason, maybe-“

Peter blinks and tries to block out whatever else is said. Turning to the mirror his breath catches as he sees Lydia. Her face is soft, all the judgment and unhappiness gone. She’s breathing slowly, mouth partially open. One hand is pressed against the glass as if she was trying to comfort him.

He wonders, only for a moment, if she would try to comfort him. If he admitted that he needed it, but it makes him feel selfish since she is the one that was captured.

Dead. When he was dead was the only time he needed comfort and he had it. With her, in her mind he found comfort. Curled up in the darkest corner as a wolf, he had been warm and felt safe.

He does now too, reaching his hand out slowly and presses it against the scarred glass of the mirror. Sighing in a large breath he studies her and moves his hand to meet hers, but it only last a second as a shock goes up both their arms throwing them back.

“Shit,” wincing Peter stand up from the floor, rubbing his ass slowly.

“Oh my god, what the hell was that?” Lydia yells, coming back into view, her hair frizzing at the ends a bit.

“Maybe what connects us?” Peter touches the sides of the mirror slowly and stares at her, “I’m going to get you out of there. And when I do I’m going to ask that fae why he took you. Then kill him.”

“Peter,” she mumbles, rubbing her back.

“I’m going to kill him. I promise.”

It’s early the next day, the sun still making the sky a morning yellow and pink. There’s a chill in the air, but the wolves ignore it and the others wrap themselves tighter in their jackets. The key from the hellhounds is shoved into the ground, the handle of it sticking out to greet the pack and they move to stand around it.

Stiles moves his lasso of blood in a circle, letting the dirt rise around Peter and the small group going to save Lydia. “Whatever happens,” he yells at Malia, “You all have to make sure to protect the people here. Something that isn’t meant to be here might come through this door.”

Malia nods at the Spark, “We’ll make sure everyone is safe.” The girl can see in her friend’s eyes he’s worried about his father.

“Malia,” Peter studies his daughter for a minute, “Don’t let anything kill you.”

Then Parrish lights the blood with a spark of ice and they’re gone.

 

_“You’ve been talking to Lydia a lot the past couple days,” Derek jerks as Donkey Kong, on the screen, drifts too far into the grass. Stiles snickers and catches a boost, shooting past several cars. The boys wrapped in blankets and Peter doesn’t want to think about him not wearing anything underneath since him and Derek had practically ran down stairs when they heard him yell._

_“You make it sound like I’ve committed a crime,” Peters says over the top of his book._

_“He isn’t,” says Stiles, glancing back at the blue-eyed wolf, “We’ve both noticed it. Besides, we came down stairs to you two practically debating on the logic of killing and ‘all promises I make must be kept’.”_

_“I’m just worried you have more of a connection with her than you’re letting yourself believe,” Derek mumbles the last part with a huff._

_“And what if I do? In case you’ve forgotten I did bite her at a winter formal. She doesn’t exactly trust me.”_

_Stiles pauses the game and turns to look fully at Peter, “It’s been almost six years, dude. I think if Lydia or any of us wanted you gone by now it would have happened. You haven’t gone on a power hungry spree since we were juniors in high school and we all remember how that went.”_

_Peter sneers at the memory, “Thank you for bringing up another failure.”_

_“Well, hopefully you learned your lesson, granted Derek could have become human and you almost killed your own daughter, but since then you have proven yourself a worthy wolfman of society.”_

_Derek snorts and scoots closer to the couch, “I’ve seen the way you look at her-“_

_“That, I’m not too happy about, but whatever,” Stiles rolls his eyes at the two wolves._

_“Look,” Derek huffs at his lover then looks back at Peter, “Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but did you ever think your wolf started getting crazy again because you wouldn’t at least try to move in on Lydia?”_

_Peter is quiet for a moment. He isn’t quite sure of what he should say. On one hand Stiles and Derek aren’t yelling at him about age difference or using Lydia to bring him back to life, but he feels if he doesn’t answer correctly it will go there._

_“I did think that several times. And I’m not going to lie to you, I have thought about her in my bed before,”_

_“Christ man,” Stiles gags, “Can you phrase the any other way?”_

_“My wolf does want her, I blame myself for her being taken. I will kill the one who took her too.”_

_Derek nods and looks at the paused game for a moment before getting up to walk upstairs. He’s back a second later though, with a small brown box that he hands to Peter. “It was Talia’s… Moms… Not… I thought since it was part of the family, part of what we both lost you could still be able to contact Lydia when we go in. Obviously we can’t take the whole mirror… I just thought… If you don’t…”_

_“He thought it would help,” says Stiles, walking to sit partially on the couch and Derek. He tightens the blankets around him and smiles softly as his mate, “He went to go get it today, I agreed that it was a pretty good idea.”_

_Peter opens the box, moving the thin wrapping paper inside to reveal a compact. It’s small and the wood has been glossed to keep it smooth and undamaged. ‘TH’ is inscribed in gold on the back and there’s a note in the bottom of the box with Peter’s brother-in-law’s handwriting._

_He clicks it open and a spotless mirror shows the sleepiness on his face. Quickly shutting it, Peter looks at his nephew. “Of all the ideas you’ve ever had I must agree with Stiles and say this one was pretty good.”_

_Derek nods slowly as Stiles beams at the both of them, “I gotta say, you still creep me out a lot, but I’m glad you found something besides power to fight for.”_

_Smirking at the boy Peter quirks, “I must say, you’re still extremely annoying as fuck, but I’m glad to welcome you to the Hale family.”_

 

Rain beats down on the group of seven, cold seeping into Peter’s bones like he has never felt before.Shivering slightly he only stops to widen his eyes at the trees before him. The trunks of them are so thick they could be carved out for housing and their roots shoot from the ground in some places connecting with other trees. Some branches rise towards the sky, as if praising it, while others reach down to grab at the party of supernaturals.

“It’s a three day journey through the forest to get to the estate and at some point we’ll have to cross a river.” Parrish takes off the miniature sized bag around his neck and opens it to pull out six more.

“It’s like I’m surrounded by Potters and Blacks,” Stiles mutters softly.

“Lupins,” Derek smiles at him, taking two of the bags for them after finishing rubbing his hand over Stiles’ blood lasso cut.

“It’s bigger on the inside than the outside if that’s what you mean,” Parrish continues, “Scott, you and the other wolves should be able to turn into your full wolf forms by the way.”

The alpha nods and looks at the bag in his hand, “What about these?”

“They’ll grow with you,” Parrish takes out bottles of water and protein bars, “They’ll hold some provisions and some already have stuff in them.”

“Wait.” Everyone looks up at a panicked Jackson. “I’ve never been a full wolf before, I’ve only ever been-“

“A brainwashed lizard out to kill everyone,” chuckles Peter, “We can’t have that getting in the way of anything.”

“You should be able to turn full wolf now, usually only born wolves and alphas can do it, but it’s different here.” Parrish clasps his friend’s shoulder, “Don’t worry.”

They all check their bags and Kira makes sure her sword is locked tight enough on to her belt. Each of the wolves, besides Jackson, set the metal claws on. Before everyone turns, Peter looks at them all.

“If I start loosing control, don’t stop me.”

“But Peter-“

“Are you sure?” asks Scott, interrupting his best friend.

“Yes, you guys should be able to stop me if I try to hurt you, but I have an idea my wolf will get what it needs to calm down soon.” He looks at his nephew and nods.

Peter puts the compact into the bag around his neck. Trying not to listen to the people around him, he stretches his muscles but as always he hears most of it.

Scott kisses Kira on the temple, nose and mouth softly. Smiling, she hugs him. “I always like when you turn into a wolf.”

“Even as a wolf, I’ll protect you while we’re here.”

That gets him a soft to punch to the arm, “I haven’t needed your protection in a long time.”

Stiles fakely coos at them from the side, earning himself an amused glare. Turning to look at Derek, he smiles. “And I always like when you turn into a big, fluffy wolf too.”

“Joy,” Derek mumbles, rolling his eyes as he kisses Stiles on the side of the mouth, “We can still understand you when we’re wolves, dumbass.”

It’s playful, but still gets Stiles to frown, “So no gossiping with Jordan about you in the bedroom. Nothing about your kno-”

Thankfully that’s as far as Stiles gets with that sentence before Derek shuts him up with a growl. Nonetheless, a spark of excitement can be smelled rolling off the younger mans body, making Jackson gag.

Kira, Parrish and Stiles all turn away as the wolves take off their clothes and push them into the bags. Peter is the first to shift, his bones elongating or disappearing to rearrange and snap into place. It burns, but only for a second before he shakes his woody colored fur out.

Derek is the second to go, his shift always being a bit more slow and less dramatic than Peter’s. Still though, a slow shift causes more pain and Derek comes out of it snapping his teeth, legs shaking as he stands.

Derek’s wolf is black, fur shining as rain hits it. He takes a deep breath of air and stretches. He’s taller than Peter, probably because he’s higher in the pack. But where Derek is tall Peter is stocked with more muscle like when he’s just a man.

Stiles comes to Derek, not caring that two other naked men are still standing there. He reaches his hands to Derek’s snout and pats him. Peter has to admire Stiles, knowing that he probably saw the ripple of skin and disfigure of anatomy as his lover changed. No fear comes off the boy though. There’s so many emotions rolling off of Stiles right now and pride is the only one that Peter has to wonder about. Derek only turned himself into a wolf. He hasn’t defeated anything or saved Stiles from danger. Peter cannot help but question why Stiles would proud of such a simple task.

Jackson turns, whining when he’s done and smells around himself. Not being used to the form he trips over his legs like a newborn fawn. Snorting Peter walks to him pushing with his snout, as a doe would do to it’s young, to help the new wolf stand better. Jackson growls but it’s silenced when Scott pads passed him. Jackson’s fur is lighter than Peter’s and Scott’s is darker than the oldest wolves’ but lighter than Derek’s. Scott is bigger than them all as well, which is to be expected,seeing as he’s the alpha.

“I can hear Scott!” Kira giggles and rushes forward to him.

“You’re mated with him so that’s most likely why.” Parrish smiles at the girl as she laughs and pets Scott’s snout.

Peter glances at Stiles who’s still got his head pressed against Derek’s, looking at the wolf’s eyes. Huffing, Peter walks past them, bumping against his nephew, towards Parrish.

“Scott wants to know if we should be looking out for anything in the forest,” Kira cocks her head at Parrish.

“We should always be on the look out,” he mumbles to the wolves, glancing at the forest, “There is still stuff in there that is dangerous.”

“When will we know if the Big Bad Wolf is hunting us?” Stiles asks as he ungracefully climbs onto Derek’s back.

“He already is,” Parrish looks at Jackson for permission and when the wolf nods slowly he hops on. Peter barks out a wolfish laugh and waits for Kira to sit on Scott.

The rain begins to subside as Parrish directs Jackson into the forest. Peter makes his way around lifted roots and fallen branches as he follows the others. Silently, he ponders what might happen when they reach Lydia.

-

“What did you say?” Thed smirks at the silver plate in his hands. He throws it to Lydia, who clumsily catches it and looks at the image before her.

“I said they would come for me.” The redhead stares at the large wolves and her friends riding them. It takes her a second to realize that the wolves are her friends as well. She picks out Scott easily because Kira would only be with him and he’s the largest of them all. Derek’s fur is as dark as his natural hair and Stiles is happily talking to him.

Wincing for the born wolf, she wonders how long the talking will last until he gets tired. Then again, Derek probably doesn’t mind since Stiles talks enough for the both of them. She’s knows Parrish is riding Jackson, Jackson is smaller than the others but still looks powerful, each stride filled with pride.  Peter is at the end of the line, with no rider. He moves with sleek, patient steps, his eyes narrowed as if focusing on everything around him.

Lydia has to admit that both Derek and Peter look beautiful, moving with grace that the other two wolves don’t seem to have. Maybe it’s because they were born werewolves that they look more like animals than men that have changed to animals.

“And here they are, coming right to my front door.” Thed snatches the plate back and sneers at the images, “It’s a shame, you won’t even get to see all you friends before you die.”

Lydia doesn’t let her emotions betray her. She’s scared and her screams have only ever confirmed that when Thed says he will kill someone, he is serious. At first he hadn’t even looked at her. They’d thrown her in a room, provided her with clothes and food. The second day he came to her, requested that she come with him.

Leading her to a marvelous library, he told her why she was here. That she would be groomed until the wolf she had been taken from would come to get her. He’d told her his version of the story, of how Peter and her had been the cause of his father’s death. When he went to go retrieve Parrish he had had no idea his half-brother was already running with the pack.

 

_“Why are you showing me this?” Lydia grits out trying to move so her back was to the books wanting to see the fae’s every move._

_“Why indeed,” walking to pick out a large book from the shelves the fae hands it to her, “This book is my family’s history. Tells of my father, his father before him and so one. Names every one of their children, even the bastard half-breed ones. Your friend, Jordan I think he goes by, is one of those awful bastard children.”_

_“That doesn’t answer my question,” Lydia wraps her arms around herself not liking the hungry look he gives her her._

_No matter how beautiful the fae is there’s an awful, dangerous air about him. His long black hair is braided, falling down his back and his robes are now changed to a lighter blue than the ones he wore when he took her. His cheekbones are sharp like Isaac’s but the rest of him looks thicker than the wolf. She would run, but guessing he has the strength and muscle to take her down, she throws the idea away._

_“If you came for Parrish why did you take me?”_

_The fae laughs dryly, “I did come for him, he’s more powerful than he knows. Scared of himself, the boy has not exceeded to his full potential.” Turning to several glasses that Lydia had not noticed sitting on a small table before, he lifts them up, studies them, then hands one to her. It fills with wine suddenly and he drinks his own, slowly watching her._

_She makes no move to drink the beverage and glances at the library more. Books cover every shelf and small tables are set throughout the large room. Papers scatter some, while others are bare. Old looking chairs and couches sit in random places, a tall ladder leans against one of the shelves._

_“As of why I took you, I had no idea Peter Hale was still alive and not an alpha yet.”_

_Snapping her gaze back to the fae she frowns, “How do you know Peter?”_

_“His soul of course,” shrugging the fae drinks more wine, “Your wolf has a soul so confused and dark he probably doesn’t even remember what it felt like to be dead.”_

_“You’ve seen his soul?” Lydia slinks towards the fae that has now sat on a chair._

_Crossing his legs and smirks he says, “When I’m bored I like looking at souls that have passed on and are traveling on their way to Hell. Peter Hale’s hadn’t even tried letting go of life. You see he was connected to someone.”_

_“Me,” sighs the banshee._

_“Yes, you. I fished his soul out from the river it was in and took it to my father. When he saw it he took pity, always an awful trait of the man. What fae takes pity on some beast from another world?” Taking another swig, the fae carried on, “The soul told him that it wanted to go back from once it had came and even had a way to do it. At that my father laughed and told him no human was smart enough to find a way back to life. Peter stated that he was stronger than any human and challenged my father to a duel. If he were to win we had to let his soul go back to the surface. If my father were to win we could keep his soul and torcher him.”_

_Lydia frowned slightly, if Peter had already been on his way to hell what could some fae do that a demon could not._

_Having sensed the confusion the fae smiled, “I assure you, we are worse than any demon.”_

_“That’s what you all say, but there’s never been anything that my friends could not beat. They just fight longer and harder every time, you can’t beat them.” Lydia moved to another shelf of books, purposely not look at the fae, daring him to do something to her. Yet he didn’t move, just chuckled horribly dry._

_“The faith you have in your pack astounds me.  Besides, your wolf cheated, not telling us what he was, and my father was killed. His soul went back to your world and I only assumed he became an alpha. I didn’t know that his way back to life was a banshee until a while ago. I had some scouts go hunting for a rather rare unicorn in your world when they found out a banshee had helped Peter. You have no idea how famous your little band of misfits are.”_

_Lydia was quiet for a moment before turning back to the fae, “What about Parrish?”_

_“I had gone to seek my brother to offer him a trade. He finds your mutt and I show him his power. Obviously he said no and we beat him. Eventually he slipped out that he ran with the pack. I knew who Peter was as soon as I saw him laying in the ground.” Suddenly the fae was in her face. The smell of wine coming off his lips, he grabbed her glass throwing it on the ground as he pushed her against the bookshelf. “The way he ran with you though,” a bark of laughter, “His wolf going insane inside him. You know all it wants is you? I could see it in his eyes when I took you.”_

_Lydia flicks her hands out, trying to push him away. He just smiles, eyes blowing out to only black._

_“Imagine little banshee, what he would do if I killed you. A life for a life. Not even my bastard brother could calm that wolf down. He’d go mad all over again.”_

_A whimpers comes out of Lydia lips and she silently curses herself for showing how scared she is, “They’ll come for me.”_

_“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’ll get rid of your whole damn pack if it lets me see the look on Peter Hale’s face when I kill you.” He reaches for the belt on her torso, “Then I’ll kill him. Ever. So. Slowly.” He moves to take it off but suddenly screeches and stumbles back, gaping at his hands that are now red and smoking._

_Lydia feels relief go through her as she looks down at the bit of iron on Allison’s belt._

_“Whoever was the previous owner of that belt was a smart one,” the fae spits out, “No matter.” Smoothing over his robe, he looks at the woman. “We will make sure to take good care of you before your wolf gets here.”_

_“What should I call you,” Lydia asks standing a bit taller knowing that the belt can’t be taken from her “Since I’ll be stuck with you.”_

_He smirks at her, “Just call me Thed.”_

 

Remembering, Lydia had to admit, Peter was indeed her wolf. She had brought him back from the dead and she knew they had a connection. Lydia did not hate him. There were times that she could not stand him or felt uncomfortable having to be around him, but she definitely did not want him dead. She’d grown fond of their bantering back and forth; along with the not so uncomfortable silences they could share at times.

“Sit,” Thed instructed and she did as told, sitting at the end of the dining table. He faced her, making it known that he would not look away even as the food was carried out to them. Little goblins scampered around her feet as they set dishes on the table, she didn’t flinch from them anymore. They were so little, and rather ugly,but that didn’t bother her.

“I know you’ve been talking to the wolf,” Thed says quietly, “I hope you know even though you have given them information about Big Bad, it won’t help them.” He motioned to a fae standing by the door.

“Sir?” The whited haired guard asked.

“Call the wolf, tell him his assistance is now needed. I’ll pay him in land and his tail of defeating a pack that came to steal from me. Tell him I want Peter Hale alive, like we talked about, I’ll be killing him myself..” Nodding, the guard leaves the room with the last of the goblins.

Lydia knows full and well that the wolf won’t work for land. He doesn’t need land and takes what’s his.

“Let us see your friends try to defeat him,” he laughs and goes to eating his food.

Lydia watches him for a second, studies the way he holds himself, tall and proud. She’s seen men be overly prideful and Thed is no different.

Scoffing she says, “My friends have been up against an entire pack of alphas. They’ve defeated an evil spirit raging chaos and killing people,” she stands, angry now, but Thed says nothing, “We haven’t lost anyone in years. Not to ghosts, warlocks, angry cannibal spirits or anything that has come our way.” Slowly she grabs a piece of meat and lays it on the table, “Do you honestly think some mangy mutt that only has brute strength on his side would be a challenge for my pack?” she takes out a knife from the belt then looks at Thed, “When Peter gets here he’ll beat you and the rest of them will get rid of that stupid wolf.” She stabs through the piece of food hard enough to reach the table and then rushes out of the room.

If she had stayed any longer she would have seen Thed smile at the knife erupting from the wood. Would have heard him laugh mockingly and take a slurp of his wine, because he knows that they’ve underestimated the wolf. Thed is well aware that not even a fool that can throw mountain ash around and use a couple of knives will get anywhere close to hurting the Big Bad Wolf.

-

“We’ll make camp here,” Parrish declares sliding off of Jackson,

They’re in a slightly clear part of the woods, the roots of trees aren’t lifting up around them and some fallen branches allow them to not worry about their left side being clear if a threat comes. Kira slowly works on making a fire as the wolves change back into men and Stiles and Parrish look through their bags for food.

“Holy shit,” gasps Stiles, “Did you put every type of Dorito known to man in here.” The Sparks pulls at least six bags out.

“Derek said you liked them,”

“Although I don’t see why,” Derek mutters, interrupting Parrish, “They smell like chemicals.”

“Oh don’t lie to the boy,” Peter teases, “I’ve seen you put two bags away in the same hour when you’re moping.”

Scowling, Derek looks at his uncle, “Peter eats whole boxes of Zebra Cakes when he’s depressed.

Giggling into her hand, Kira bumps an elbow into Scott, “Scott just sits on the couch and eats ice cream all night, and it’s usually when I have to go out of town.”

“That just means I love you,” grins the alpha.

Parrish smiles as everyone banters back and forth, only stopping to frown slightly as he notices Peter playing with the edges of compact. “What’s that?”

“It’s my sisters old compact mirror,” mumbles the wolf, “It’s suppose to be able to help me talk to Lydia while we’re here. She must not be in her room though.”

Peter huffs a bit and sets the compact down on his knees. He hasn’t mentioned it yet, but running around a forest all day has made his wolf stir. It wants to reach the parts of Peter’s mind, but whatever is left of the wolfsbane medicine is keeping it at bay. It scratches a bit at the cage in his mind as he waits for Lydia.

Scott moves to sit beside Peter and looks at the mirror with him. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know you miss her. It’s not your fault that she got taken and you two have always had a weird relationship. Always being sarcastic with each other or pretending like you don’t like each other. I know she cares though and I know you feel your wolf wanting her.” He reaches for Kira’s hand, “Most of us know how that feels.”

“My wolf goes insane though, I’m dangerous.”

“So?” Shrugs Stiles, “That’s just more reason for us to get you to her.”

“I think,” Jackson begins from the other side of the fire, “As long as you don’t hurt her we won’t have an issue. Even if you are a hundred years older than her.”

 

“Peter?” His eyes snap down to the mirror to see Lydia. Her hair is everywhere, tangled in knots and her eyes look swollen.

“Shit, what happened?”

Glancing away from him she sighs, “I may have said something to Thed during dinner… Lets just say when he was finished he wasn’t too happy about how I talked to him.”

“What did he do?” The wolf growls lowly, trying not to wake the others. Peter had taken the first watch, not knowing when Lydia would go to her mirror or if using the compact would even work.

“Nothing, just threw some things and made some threats,” He can hear the lie in her voice, but doesn’t say anything.

He does tell her how they left for this world in the morning. About the bags Parrish gave them and his sister’s mirror he’s using to talk to her. Also that his wolf is slowly coming back to the surface.

“What will you do when it’s back? I know that’s why you were acting the way you were when we went to look through the forest.”

He nods, remembering the duel pain of his nails piercing the side of his leg, “This times it will be alright. I know how to fix it, we just have to get to you in time before it gets out.”

“Well hurry up,” she looks away, clearly wanting to say something. But whatever it is though, is stopped by Peter raising his hand to silence her.

Her eyes go wide as he sniffs the air around himself. Snapping the compact shut, he throws it into the bag around his neck and slowly stands to wake the others up. Picking up on what Peter has slightly smelled, the wolves turn and their riders climb on quickly.

Parrish directs them through the trees and by the time the sun is peaking through the forest the smell has only gotten stronger. It’s sour and burns Peter’s nose; he can only compare it to the smell of metal and acid. He barks for all of them to stop and when they do he curiously turns around to great yellow eyes peeking from under lifted roots. They stay in the shadows and the oldest wolf hears Parrish mumble “gremlins”.

One peaks out from the tree, it’s smaller than the goblins that chased Peter and Lydia, it’s cuter. It’s ears look too big for it’s head and the blue eyes light up when Peter stalks closer to it.

“Are you saying we woke up to run away from a miniature version of Dobby?” Stiles slides off of Derek, ignoring the small whine. He walks to stand by Peter and they looks down at the little creature that has come a bit closer; it’s friends blink in the shadows. The younger man shifts his weight in excitement. Stiles takes his bag off from around his neck and pulls out a bag of Doritos. “Here you go little homie,” he smiles while handing one to the gremlin. Quickly taking it the gremlin backs up some, staring at the chip in wonder.

“Show him he should eat it,” perks Kira while Parrish hisses, “Don’t feed them, they’re like dogs.”

Stiles takes out a chip for himself and shows the gremlin it’s safe to eat. It sniffs at it for a moment then slowly puts the chip in its mouth. Eyes going wide as it chews and then starts to chirp. “This is awesome,” Stiles beams as more come forward.

He tosses more chips near the shadows and watches in wonder as more gremlins come forwards. The wolves watch as the little creatures eat and Peter has to roll his eyes as Stiles begins to hum happily. It’s cut short though as a large growl is heard from the trees. Gremlins scatter around the parties feet, Doritos in hand; the only one that stays was the first crawling up Stiles to curl against his neck.

Backing up, the boy turns to get on Derek again as another growl comes from the trees and large red eyes glow from the shadows.. The upcoming sun doesn’t do justice to help the group see what comes forward, but Peter has an idea.

The Big Bad Wolf slinks out of the trees and stands on a large root to look down at the group. His fur is darker than even Derek’s black coat; if that’s possible. Scars cover his snout and there’s a rip through one if his ears. Bigger than even Scott the wolf huffs then smiles, all sharp teeth.

“Little wolves,” says the wolf, a voice so low Peter slightly shutters, “I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I’m meant to kill all of you.” He snaps his jaws and Peter turns to run with the others.

Moving quickly under and over roots the wolves rush towards the sound of water and Parrish yells for them to be prepared to jump. There are flat stones that lay across the river, making it known to Peter that this river is too wide to jump in one go. Derek falls behind Peter and when the older wolf is halfway across the water he looks back at his nephew.

“Go,” Stiles all but screams at Peter and the wolf does as told. When he reaches the other side ,the rest of the group is watching to see Big Bad break through the line of trees. Derek growls and snaps his teeth at the larger wolf as the hair on his back lifts.

“Little wolf going to try and fight me,” laughs Big Bad and his ears prick as Stiles slides off Derek.

“No, I am.” Stiles takes out his knife, cutting the inside of his hand and the gremlin against his neck shakes. Peter can smell the blood and metal. He’s about to hop back across the river when Kira yells at him.

“Peter we have to go,” he turns to see Parrish and Jackson moving towards the trees, “They’re going to be fine, but we have to go now!”

Glancing back at his nephew Peter leans his head back and howls before moving to follow the others.

-

“Look at them,” Thed spits on the icy ground of the garden, “Look at your wolves, leaving their own to fend against that beast.”

Lydia quietly watches the others move through the forest as Stiles banters with the Big Bad Wolf.

“They might as well have just sacrificed themselves to me,” Lydia barks out laugher at Thed’s words, “Why are you laughing? Does it amuse you your friends are about to die?”

“No, it’s just that you greatly underestimate their ability, you might want to watch longer if you think that the Big Bad Wolf is any match for a Spark.”

“Big deal,” waves Thed, “He can throw some mountain ash around, that only works with werewolves.”

Throwing her head back the banshee laughs more, “Do you honestly think that’s all Stiles can do? And he has his mate with him, if a wolf is mated it only makes them both stronger.”

Thed jerks back to look at the guards shield. Stiles’ lasso of blood twirls in the air for a moment before crashing down, almost hitting the Big Bad Wolf that had narrowly avoided it, sending wood and pieces of the ground flying. When Big Bad moves Derek lunges at his back legs only to be shaken off a second later, but it gives Stiles enough time to swing at the wolf again. Dodging again, the wolf is lunged at by Derek once more and the dance continues.

Thed hisses at the picture and turns towards Lydia, throwing his arm out to slap her. She’s been waiting for him to do that and grabs his wrist, holding it to iron that she had stripped off one of Allison’s gas bombs the night before. She squeezes it so it locks around the fae’s wrist and runs passed the guards to her prison of a room, ignoring the shrieks of pain behind her. Slamming the door, she rushes to the mirror calling for Peter, but she knows he won’t answer. He’s too busy running through the forest away from his nephew that could be dead now.

Lydia doesn’t doubt that Stiles will win his fight with Big Bad, just that there’s no way of telling if Derek will make it out alive. She knows she’ll feel guilty if Derek dies. Just like she did when Allison died trying to save her. So she falls back away from the mirror into the bedpost and slides down to the floor, tears cascading slowly down her face as she begins to scream.

**Author's Note:**

> GO CHECK OUT MY AWESOME BETA READER ON http://cutewolfboys.tumblr.com/  
> AND COME PLAY WITH ME AT http://lunaisfree.tumblr.com/
> 
> PART TWO WILL BE HERE BY THANKSGIVING


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